Finishing What Joe Started

A coach fulfills the Kona dream of his athlete and friend.

by Courtney Johnson

Fifteen years ago, Joe Vrablik was settling into a fast-paced career as an IT specialist for University of Colorado Boulder. The stress of his job—the list of urgent requests of his time and expertise never seemed to ease up—was taking its toll both mentally and physically. Like so many others, Joe turned to eating to handle stress. When his weight hit 400 pounds, he knew he needed to find a way to combat the pressures he felt. When a coworker mentioned triathlon in passing, Joe wondered whether it was something he could do. A hunter, fisherman and swimmer growing up, he had no real experience with running and cycling. Sure, he could ride a bike, but running at his weight would be tough, especially on his knees.

Joe began with what he knew—swimming. He slowly added in cycling and run/walk training as his weight began to lower and his endurance increased. After a few sprint triathlons, he was hooked and wanted to get faster. In 2003, Joe, based in Eerie, Colorado, reached out to coaching outfit D3 Multisport and was connected with then-pro triathlete and new coach AJ Johnson.

Like many long-distance triathletes, Joe dreamed of one day qualifying for the IRONMAN World Championship in Kailua-Kona, but it wasn't something he considered a vaguely realistic prospect. But when the IRONMAN Legacy Program was introduced in 2012, Joe and AJ were encouraged. Through the program, athletes who have completed a minimum of 12 full-distance IRONMAN races and have never competed at the IRONMAN World Championship have an opportunity to be selected for a special slot to compete in Kailua-Kona. The pair created a multi-year plan to get Joe across a dozen IRONMAN finish lines.

Joe and AJ methodically ticked off the IRONMAN finishes, reaching 12 in 2015. (Joe raced IRONMAN South Africa that year, where he proposed to his then-girlfriend, Stephanie.) "The strength about Joe is that he would always stick to the plan," says AJ. "With his many years of long-distance training, he was durable. He knew he could finish a race before the cutoff without taking risks."

With his wedding set for 2016, Joe only did one IRONMAN that year (Wisconsin) to maintain his eligibility for the IRONMAN Legacy Program. In 2017, he wasn’t selected for the world championship, but he once again finished IRONMAN Wisconsin to remain eligible. Joe worked to maintain his fitness as he awaited word on the 2018 IRONMAN World Championship.

By then, Joe and AJ had developed a friendship that transcended any athletic goals. There was an ongoing exchange of texts and phone calls between the two, only sometimes related to triathlon. Joe became known as "the Colorado uncle" to AJ's young daughter, Emma. They took trips to Disneyland and shared countless meals together. Emma was a flower girl at Joe's April 2016 wedding; AJ was a groomsman.

On November 14, 2017, just two days before his 39th birthday, Joe's Kona dream was officially viable. He sent AJ a screenshot of the email announcing Joe's selection for the 2018 IRONMAN World Championship through the IRONMAN Legacy Program. Below the screenshot, he typed: "S**t just got real." AJ picked up the phone and told Joe, "What a heck of a birthday present!"

The two got to work developing a short-term and long-term plan for preparing Joe for Kona. Joe struggled with heat and humidity, so they knew they'd need to focus on those two known factors for race day.

"I remember telling him, 'you only have one shot at this,'" says AJ. "It was a struggle to find that fine line between enjoying the experience and taking it all in, and making sure he'd be truly happy with his effort."

Stress at Joe’s job was at an all-time high, and he was also dealing with his grandma's failing health. "My goal was that he stay super consistent through the winter to keep his weight down," recalls AJ. "We talked about how it was important to keep the weight off, but I never was on him about it. He knew what he knew, and that was the way he worked."

Despite zero weight loss and inconsistencies with workouts, Joe and AJ were still positive about his ability to give Kona "a respectful effort," as Johnson put it. "That was the one thing about Joe, he was always good at knowing how to get things done."

Throughout late winter and into early spring, Joe began to find a rhythm. He and his wife, Stephanie, talked to AJ about working with a nutritionist for the eight months leading to race day. All seemed in a good place, but when Joe’s best friend's father died from cancer in early April, he was devastated. Joe learned that going out for a run or a ride gave him the chance to talk to Kevin’s father, to feel a bit more at peace with the loss. He kept moving forward, his eye on race day six months away.

Then, on April 19, 2017, the unthinkable. At age 39, Joe suffered an aortic separation, a tear in the inner layer of the large blood vessel branching off of the heart. There are fewer than 200,000 cases of it per year, and it's much more common among men in their 60s and 70s. There were no warning signs, and the doctors said there was nothing they could've done to prevent it.

Among the tears, talk of AJ finishing what Joe started was brought up almost immediately. "It never was a question for me whether I would race for Joe," says AJ.

It didn't matter that it had been more than 10 years since AJ finished an IRONMAN. Joe's wife wrote a heartfelt letter to the IRONMAN Legacy Program requesting a transfer of Joe's entry to AJ, which was granted.

AJ found a great familiarity in working out again and began to use the time to talk to Joe and to channel Joe’s energy and spirit. "My mind naturally drifted to why am I doing this?'" says AJ. "The obvious answer was right in front of me."

Race week was unlike any other he'd experienced. "I didn’t know how much that week would drain me emotionally," says AJ. "I knew so many people there that I hadn’t seen for a few years. They all saw that red athlete bracelet, and it became 5-10 minutes of repeating the same story."

The moment AJ's feet hit the warm water of Kailua Bay on race morning, the objective ahead of him—and what it all signified—felt suddenly real. This is it he told himself. Wearing a small container of Joe’s ashes around his neck, he spoke to his friend: "Isn’t this amazing? Aren’t we lucky we get to do this?"

During the swim, AJ continued to talk to Joe. "Is it everything you thought it would be?" he asked. He didn’t feel the usual fatigue as he exited the water, his hand reaching to grasp Joe’s ashes hanging near his heart. "He and I were racing together—I wanted him to see race day through my eyes," says AJ.

On the bike, AJ began to feel "grief energy." He felt anger for the reason he, and not Joe, was out there. "I wanted to light it up and put it all into the pedals," says AJ. But he knew he had to restrain himself. What would he have told Joe to do if he was trying to find an outlet for his grief? "I pedaled angry for a minute or two and took a deep breath," recalls AJ.

Despite riding Joe’s bike, which was one size too big and didn't fit quite right, AJ surprisingly never felt any discomfort. "I never felt so comfortable on the bike for 112 miles, and my longest ride on it was only 80 miles," says AJ.

As he got closer to transition, AJ began to talk to Joe again. "Look at these barren lava fields! Does it look like how you thought it would? Man, we are having a great day out here!" AJ slowed as he entered town. He sat up, looked around and took it all in.

After transition, he stopped to do an interview with a cameraman, showing him Joe’s ashes and sharing their story. Having not logged a training run longer than 12 miles, AJ wasn’t sure what would the run would hold for him. One foot in front of the other he thought, and soon he saw his support crew, which included Joe’s wife and best friend. Anticipating the isolation on the Queen K, he stopped and talked with his crew on the way out and back on Ali’i Drive. When he got up onto the Queen K, it was just him and Joe again.

Into the Energy Lab, he saw a military helicopter landing. It was almost too perfect. "Joe was a history and military buff, and I knew he would have known what kind of helicopter it was and loved that!" says AJ.

At mile 23, AJ could hear the finish line noise and prepared himself for what was coming. He expected "a mix of grief and sadness." When he made the final turn heading towards the finish line, the sense of Joe's loss hit him hard. "It kind of slammed me in the face," he says. "There was a finality—Joe's IRONMAN journey was over.”

As he made his way through the finish line chute, AJ high-fived the crowd and kept repeating, "This is for Joe!" He pointed to Joe on his singlet as he crossed the line. "I wanted people to see Joe at the finish, not me," explains AJ. "I know how hard he worked. I wanted him to be feeling the rush of finishing Kona."

Right after crossing the finish line, after the congratulatory hugs with those closest to both him and Joe, the grief hit AJ like a wave: "It was like saying goodbye again. I just said to myself, 'I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you had as much fun as I did.'"

Standing there, AJ realized that allowing the grief to consume the moment would not have been what Joe wanted, or what he stood for. Above all, he felt a deep appreciation for the triathlon journey that forever connected them to one another and allowed them to experience that day—together.

"If you think about it, 10:53 seems a long time to race," muses AJ. "But really, it is only a blink in a lifetime. In that blink, I got to honor him the best way I could. I thanked Joe for letting me be a part of his journey."